


Please Don't Let Me Dream

by Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot



Series: Getting Used To It [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Cousin Incest, Insomnia, M/M, Narcolepsy, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:16:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2726954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot/pseuds/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Ace had to pinpoint when it began, he’d have to say it started with that first kiss. The one when he was sixteen, and nervous, and didn’t really know anything much about himself beyond the fact that he thought girls had prettier clothes than boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Don't Let Me Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This takes places both before and after [The First Crew Member](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2588300), and contains mild spoilers for [Stay With Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2611070).
> 
> Picture is by the amazingly talented, [Jenna](http://mah-blackberreh.tumblr.com/)!

If Ace had to pinpoint when it began, he’d have to say it started with that first kiss. The one when he was sixteen, and nervous, and didn’t really know anything much about himself beyond the fact that he thought girls had prettier clothes than boys. They were softer too, and felt more comfortable. That wasn’t to say he didn’t like jeans or tee shirts or anything like that. He just… liked the designs on the girls’ version better. They weren’t as violent. If there were flames on something, they looked like fire, not like explosions and pieces of unknown substances being destroyed. Big robots and scowling anime characters and dark blues and greys and blacks and blech! Dull, boring, and needlessly violent.

He supposed that was why he’d been drawn to the outfit in the first place.

It was after school. He’d just come out of the locker room after gym class—thank God for last period P.E.—and there it was. Just laying there. All pretty and trimmed in pink. Pleated skirt and fitted top that he knew at a glance would just barely cover his belly button. He never did figure out just _why_ he took it, but after… when he was standing in it, feeling on top of the world… They had come around the end of the lockers and caught him.

Even if Ace forgot most of the rest of his classmates’ names. He never forgot Them. Marshall Teach, he was a couple of years older, but only one grade higher; Jesus Burgess, also in Marshall’s class; Louis Shiliew, a college student who really had no business hanging out with kids so much younger than him, but did it anyway; and Catarina Devon. She was actually in Ace’s class, sat at the back and threw spitballs at him all through Science when Mr. Drake wasn’t looking.

Looking back on it later, he always tried to convince himself he hadn’t actually brought the punishment on himself. Usually he could manage it, but every so often he wondered if screaming at Them, telling Them They’d be sorry for teasing him, had only made what was yet to come worse.

For better or worse though, he got out of that altercation without even so much as a real bruise! He’d darted home, still wearing the cheerleading uniform—much to his embarrassment—and hid in his room until dinner.

He couldn’t touch it for weeks. Haunted by how they’d laughed at him. Called him a sissy, and a pansy, and a fag. But eventually he did. It drew him in like a moth to flames, and just before Luffy’s fifteenth birthday, Ace could resist it no longer.

He stood before the mirror in his bedroom, turning this way and that, smoothing his hands down his sides and over his hips. “I don’t think it makes me look like a sissy. The skirt’s loose enough I can kick with it, and there aren’t any sleeves, so I can punch or whatever without getting stuck. I really don’t know what they were talking about. But…”

Spinning so that he could look at his backside in the mirror, he frowned.

“Does it poof out too much in the back, do you think?”

Truthfully there wasn’t anyone else in the room, but two years ago there had been. A sunny blond with a big, gap-toothed smile, and an even bigger heart. And oh, how the brunet missed him! So, Ace couldn’t help it. Talking to him made it easier to deal with the fact that he was gone, especially as his ‘episodes’ were getting worse.

The loss of Sabo had affected them all badly. Luffy would take off for hours on end doing God only knew what, sometimes not turning up until right before it was time for school. Dogra spent more time bitching than talking. Dadan had taken up spending the last couple of hours every night alone on the roof-deck and would flip the fuck out if she was disturbed for anything other than a national emergency. Uncle Dragon spent less and less time at Revolution, and Gramps? It felt like the grizzled ex-marine’s Fist of Love was losing its edge. Even letters from Mom and Dad from wherever they were in the world this month didn’t really help much.

But for Ace it meant more nights where he woke up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back to sleep, haunted by the images of his dreams that were so real… sometimes he didn’t want to admit he couldn’t tell the difference. It used to be when that happened, he’d crawl into bed with Sabo and they’d talk until he fell back to sleep, but that couldn’t happen anymore. And with Luffy out in the middle of the night most of the time, it meant he didn’t have anyone to talk to when his dreams kept him up.

It also led to more passing out at school. Usually during his exciting classes, which was irritating as hell! So it meant increased meds, and that meant more mornings where he couldn’t keep food down at all, let alone actually wanting to try and eat anything.

So, to the rest of the family, if it helped for Ace to talk to his missing brother like he was still there, they let him. They just kept a close eye on him to make sure Sabo was still imaginary, and not a hallucination. The oldest D brother had enough troubles without adding that on top of everything else.

He turned back around to face the mirror again, running his hands down his front. He noted that a tiny lip of skin peeked out over the hem of the skirt when he held his palms against his diaphragm and inhaled.

“Sabo, I think I’m getting fat. Look at that. Ugh! How did I ever think this would make me look good?”

“I think you look pretty.”

Ace whipped around, color high on his cheeks, “L-Luffy! I… I… it’s not what you think… I just wanted to… I mean it’s for a… You aren’t even supposed to be home! You said you were going out! Why are you back already? Did Gramps see you? He said he wanted to have a serious t—mmph!”

His eyes went wide as his mind registered that there were lips on his own. Then his hands came up and he shoved because it clicked in that this was _Luffy_ kissing him! His fourteen-almost-fifteen-year-old brother! And oh my God teenage hormones need to really get their shit together because that was _so not_ the time to pop a woody!!

Luffy stumbled back laughing, “It really does work!”

“WHAT?!” Ace screeched.

“Gramps did it to Dadan yesterday. Shishishishi!”

All the older boy could think was, “WHAT?!”

“I need to do it again?” Luffy tilted his head to the side, frowning slightly. “When Gramps did it, Dadan shut up for almost a full minute. Maybe I didn’t do it right?”

Ace’s brain caught up to the conversation when Luffy leaned in to do it again, and he was able to put his hands between them to hold his little brother at bay.

“Oh my God, Luffy! Why did you do that?!”

“Because Gramps did it to Dadan and it made her stop fretting over me.” The younger brunet rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“B-but! Luffy!”

“You’re not thinking about your skirt anymore.”

The matter of fact way that Luffy pointed it out made Ace blink, catching himself again. He was right. Until Luffy brought it back up again, Ace hadn’t been thinking about his outfit, or his weight, or his body, or anything except the literal fact that Luffy had just kissed him. His blush deepened and he stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s entirely beside the point! Now shoo so I can get changed!”

Luffy laughed his snickering hiss through his teeth again, a finger under his nose like he was going to snort something out of it, and left the room.

They didn’t talk about it after that. For a long time, Ace just wrote it off as Luffy being Luffy. Except every time he stepped in front of his mirror afterwards, he heard his little brother’s voice, clear as a bell, repeating that he thought Ace was pretty.

Gradually, over the course of the next year, especially when Luffy was out after school doing whatever, Ace began to collect a new wardrobe. Skirts, soft sweaters, clingy tops, tights—dear God, did he love tights—and all other manner of girls’ clothes. Some he bought with his allowance, others he pilfered from the girls’ locker room at school. He was always careful to hide them deep into his book bag, under his books and sketches and pencils, and he never took them out of his room after he got them home.

But while he was doing his homework, or catching a nap before dinner, or sometimes even to sleep at night—either before he went to bed or after he woke up again in the middle of the night—he’d wear them.

He couldn’t wait to get out of school now, because he knew as soon as he got back to the sanctuary of his room, he could slip into something slinky and silky and just languish in the feel of it on his skin. And every time he looked in the mirror, as soon as his internal monologue began to question his confidence, Luffy’s words echoed back to him. ‘I think you’re pretty.’

It was in the middle of one of those arguments with himself that he got caught.

Again he was smoothing his shirt, a cashmere off-the-shoulder number that draped a little long over his hands, over his belly, poking and prodding at the layer of baby fat that refused to disappear—he was seventeen damnit! He shouldn’t have baby fat anymore!—and even Luffy’s remembered insistence that he was pretty wasn’t really cutting it. Wrapped up in it, he wasn’t paying attention to his door when it opened.

“Hmph. I wondered where that scarf had gotten to, you little klepto.” Dadan’s voice shattered his attention, but she didn’t sound any more irritated with him than normal, “Look. I don’t care what you’re putting on your ass, but I’ve got two rules for you. You listening?”

Ace nodded quickly, his heart rate through the roof. She wasn’t going to make him give it all back, or something like that… was she?!

“One, no more stealing. You want something you can’t afford on your own you come talk to me or your Gramps and we’ll figure out how to get it. Or write to your mom. Or whatever, I don’t care, just don’t steal it.”

Okay, he could handle that. Maybe? Mom should understand yeah? Maybe. He bit his lip and fiddled with the edge of his shirt. “A-and?”

“And you keep it off the damn floor! You’re seventeen, I expect you to be able to keep your room clean. It was bad enough when all you wore was the same shit as Luffy, but if you’re gonna go doubling your wardrobe, I’m not picking it up anymore. You wear it, you put it in the hamper, and I’ll wash it. You leave it on the floor, it stays on the floor until you pick it up. Capisce?” She jabbed a finger at him.

“Y-yeah! Sure! I promise; I’ll make sure everything’s picked up! Honest, Dadan!” He felt lighter than air. That was all she wanted?! Maybe he could even start wearing it all the time then! Oh she was still looking at him, expecting something. He tempered his grin. “And no more stealing. I swear.”

“Good. Now go get washed up for dinner.” The big woman who was as much mother to him as his actual mom sniffed and shook her head as she lumbered off towards the steps that led back down to the bar, “Teenagers.”

He didn’t even think about it twice; Dadan had approved!

Dashing into the bathroom, he nearly missed his afternoon dose of meds because of the whole thing, but he had to admit, when he sat down to the table in the dive bar he’d called home since he was six, for the first time since he’d started taking the one that was supposed to balance out his dizzy spells he was _actually_ hungry!

Dogra gave him a double take, opened his mouth to say something, and got a smack across the back of the head. Dadan glared down at the often petulant cook, so he said nothing, taking his seat at the big table. Nobody else even looked at his clothes. Years later, Ace figured out it was because Dadan had told them not to, that it was okay, and that if he wanted to wear women’s clothing they had no room to judge him. Still, at the time it did _wonders_ to his appetite! For a single meal he could pretend like things were the way they had been before he’d started needing to take medications to regulate everything.

It was late, long after dinner, and in the middle of the night, when Luffy returned. He was scuffed up, had a blossoming black eye, and was missing his left shoe, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

“Where have you been!?” Ace gasped.

The younger boy shrugged. “Out.”

“Well duh! You’re a mess!! What were you thinking!?”

He pulled his little brother into the bathroom, looking around to make sure none of the adults were around. If they were they’d never hear the end of it.

“You’ve been gone since before the end of school. I had to walk home alone.” Ace sat him on the toilet, reaching up into the medicine cabinet. “Did you ditch the end of the day? Was it what Ms. Tsuru was saying about—“

“You should wear purple more often.” Luffy cut him off.

He dropped the Band-Aids, “What?”

“Your shirt. It’s purple.”

Ace looked down. He was still wearing the sweater from before dinner. It was a bright royal purple that shimmered slightly in the light. He found himself blushing a bit and he scowled to cover his embarrassment.

“Don’t change the subject! You ditched school, and you know Uncle and Gramps would be pissed if they knew you had! Running out at all hours of the day and night is one thing, but ditching school is something else again! Do you know how hard Dadan would yell if she knew you’d cut class?! Did you even stop home to get your meds? If you’re out there getting beat up or whatever, what happens if you expose someo—mmph!”

Luffy was kissing him again.

It had been nearly a year since it had started, since Luffy began cutting him off with kisses when he didn’t want to hear was Ace was saying. Something in him said it shouldn’t be happening, but the rest of him connected the kiss to the ‘you’re pretty’ comment. So he found himself melting into it before he realized what he was doing. Then he brought himself up short and pushed Luffy back onto the toilet.

“Luffy!! I thought we talked about this last time! You shouldn’t—“

His little brother kissed him again. It was short though, the bouncy boy pulling back before Ace could even react.

“I do what works.” Luffy shrugged, uncaring that what they’d just done flew in the face of every social convention that existed.

True, they weren’t actually brothers. They were cousins. Luffy’s mom had been Ace’s aunt, his dad’s sister. And no, okay, they were both physically male, even if Ace wasn’t so sure he agreed with the word ‘boy’ anymore for himself. At least not all the time. So, it wasn’t like they had to worry about somebody getting pregnant and passing on birth defects and… Holy shit he was really thinking about it!

No no no!

Luffy was laughing while he was spaced out, and Ace pouted at him, pushing the washrag soaked in witch hazel against his bruised cheek harder than strictly necessary.

“You gotta stop cutting me off like that. Somebody’s gotta worry about you when you won’t.”

A hand came up to cover his own, “Thanks.”

Ace blushed harder, pulling away quickly, and sputtered. “It-it’s what I should do! I’m older! It’s only right! You’d get yourself killed if I didn’t… and stuff… Whatever! I’m going to bed!”

“Shishishishi, night, Ace.”

Luffy’s quiet ‘thanks’ joined the ‘pretty’ rolling around in his head, and the soft touch of his brother’s fingertips ghosted over the seventeen-year-old’s skin for days afterward.

With a little silent encouragement from the crew of Revolution, Ace decided he’d try wearing his girls’ clothes at school. If it helped him feel more confident and comfortable, then it was something he should try, because being uncomfortable could only make his condition worse. So, he tried it.

For three days everything was fine.

Well, sort of.

He heard people talking about him behind his back. He caught them looking at him and quickly looking away. He knew that he made them uncomfortable. But somehow their discomfort with his appearance made him feel _better_ about it, not worse. He held his head up higher, his back straighter, his shoulders back and his frame open. He even smiled more. And the teachers complimented him on it.

But that was before That Night.

The day started out like any other, and, though for years after it happened Ace wondered what he could’ve done differently, it really hadn’t been his fault. He wore his first miniskirt to school, the pretty purple jumper Luffy had liked, and a pair of leggings that matched well. And for the first time he was wearing heels in public. His supporters had approved, and everything was looking up until sixth period.

That was when They cornered him. Teach‘s gang.

Ace had simply been trying to get from Biology to Algebra, his books in his hands after stopping at his locker, and he suddenly found himself surrounded. Catarina on one side and Burgess on the other.

“You need to watch your back, Poofboy.” The female—Ace refused to think of her as a woman, no matter how much make-up she caked onto her face—sneered, pushing him towards her companion.

Burgess pushed him back, making him trip over his heels some, “Yeah. Marshall’s gonna _teach_ you a lesson.”

They laughed at the brute’s own joke, snorting and cackling like harpies.

Ace sorted himself out barely, and tried to step around them, to not acknowledge what they were saying and move on. Get to class. Ignore the bullies. Focus on his breathing, which was getting faster.

The meatheaded lug cut him off, “Where ya goin’, pretty boy?”

“Don’t call me that.” He growled.

“Why? What you gonna do about it? Pretty boy?” Catarina jumped on his temper.

He felt like he was on fire, hot and burning from the inside out. He stepped to the side, turning around to try and get past the other instead. But again she cut him off.

“I think he’s tryin’ to ignore us, Jeje. Ya think we oughta tenderize him fer Marshall?” Catarina leaned into his personal space, giving him a good whiff of her breath.

Burgess laughed, “Ye-ah. Let’s wash him up. Then you can do his makeup so he’s _pretty_.”

Ace saw red. Nobody else was allowed to call him that! That was Luffy’s word! He swung his books and clocked the other boy with his textbook, knocking him into the wall and his companion. Then he ran. Unsteady and shaking on his feet, he ran until he reached his classroom.

The teacher tried to talk to him about something, being late, running in the halls, maybe even asked him what was wrong, but he didn’t hear him. Ace was shaking too hard. The edges of his vision were going fuzzy and his ears kept losing sound like a pair of speakers with loose wires. He laid his head down on his desk, and eventually the teacher just went back to his lesson.

By the end of the period, Ace could walk normally again. He still felt the tremors just under the surface though. He was looking over his shoulder all the time. He couldn’t afford another confrontation. He simply couldn’t!

Luck seemed to be with him for the last third of the day. He was surrounded by friends, laughing and talking, and the incident with Teach’s thugs slipped from his mind.

Until he was walking home…

Luffy was itching to take off. Again.

“Didn’t you end up in Smoker’s jail yesterday?!” Ace huffed angrily, shifted his book bag on his shoulder.

The younger squirmed. “Yeah… but… I gotta see Zoro.”

“You’re just gonna get in another fight!”

“Shishishishi so?”

“ _You shouldn’t be fighting at all!!! What if you get cut?!”_ Ace switched out of English because most people didn’t understand Portuguese so it afforded them a measure of privacy.

Luffy sighed, his earlier mirth fading, and joined his brother, _“He’s not going to cut me. We talked about it. He knows already.”_

_“That doesn’t make it okay! It’s not just about him catching it; it’s about you catching something too! The meds can’t replace your immune system. All it they can do is make it stronger!”_

_“So I’m supposed to just curl up and die like Mama?!”_ Luffy bared his teeth, his hands in fists at his sides.

Ace felt like he’d been struck.

He’d never met his aunt in person, but he knew her at least a little bit. He had memories of her smile through the webcam when he was really, really little. That was more than Luffy had. Luffy had pictures. Stories. He knew _about_ his mother, but he’d never know her. She’d died when he was only six weeks old.

The older boy looked away, frowning and trying to control the way spots were appearing in his vision. The last thing he wanted was Luffy thinking he’d triggered an episode by being stubborn. Just a little more! He could last! The draining feeling on his joints was just in his head!

_“HIV isn’t something you can just play around with. No don’t just wait to die, but try to be more careful?”_

Things were tense for a minute, then Luffy’s fist nudged Ace’s jaw gently. _“Idiot.”_

Ace knew if they were at home it was likely that the younger brunet would be kissing him right then, but fortunately, Luffy hadn’t taken to doing it in public. He at least seemed to have the intelligence to realize that would cause more trouble than good.

So, why did Ace find himself wishing that he had anyway?

He sighed heavily, watching his brother vault the same dumpster as yesterday, though this time he had his hat with him. Ace shook his head to clear the dizziness, and started for home. It was only a couple of blocks. He’d be okay. He just had to make it there…

Another block. Please.

The shadows fell over him before he realized They were there. His whole focus had been pulled inward, trying to stave off the creeping tension that told him he’d done too much that day. He was shaking badly, barely keeping his balance when They surrounded him.

Teach said something that reverberated like he was underwater.

The others laughed when all Ace did was frown in confusion. His eyes darted from one face to the other. Why couldn’t he move his arm? He needed to keep walking! No! What was this?! They were laughing still. His mind screamed when someone grabbed his arm, and he tried to make his body respond, but _nothing helped!_

He was trapped!

His muscles unresponsive, and loose. Compliant. Even his eyes had fallen to half-mast, giving him a sleepy, almost drugged look. He felt his head loll and someone supported it. He was lifted off of his feet, carried from blurry light to smudged dark, and then…

No. No! NO! NONONO!!!!!!! **NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

When he woke up he didn’t know where he was. The first thing he did was thrash his arms, more to find out if he could than anything else, and when hands grabbed him, he flailed harder, screaming as loud as he possibly could.

Soft arms wrapped around his shoulders, and a voice he knew better than his own spoke in his ear, “Squishy! Squishy huny, it’s okay! Shhhhhh! I got you! Shhhh!”

He vaguely felt the bite of a needle, and it was unclear whether the sound of his mother’s voice, or the sedative they’d obviously given him, was the reason he calmed down. After a short while he realized he was sobbing, disconnected with it, and a moment or so after that realization he fell back into the surprisingly welcome embrace of unconsciousness.

The next memory he could access was of a doctor’s office. Not a medical doctor, someone psychiatric, though the man’s face and name were lost to the recesses of his mind, buried and blurred out with a lot of what had happened that year.

He remembered the floor was a dark burgundy, and the chair was soft, but too big. He distinctly remembered feeling like he was going to be swallowed by the cushions at any moment.

“Can you tell me what happened that night, Ace?” It was the doctor who had labeled it for him.

He frowned, “Was walking home… it was… um…”

The doctor turned to his parents, “Maybe we could get some privacy, it might help Ace relate better.”

“Hmm. Alright.” His father rumbled.

They both climbed to their feet and Ace lashed out to grab a hold of his mother’s arm, _“Mama!”_

“Shh, Squishy.” She bent down to kiss the top of his head, and he felt like he was seven, not seventeen.

_“Don’t go? Please?”_

“He’s bilingual?” The doctor’s surprise washed over him like background noise, his focus on his mother and the fact that she was leaving.

 _“Sim.”_ Rouge addressed him in Portuguese, _“I’m here, Squishy, I won’t leave. Shhh. It’s okay.”_

She gathered him in her arms, sitting down in a different chair and rocking him slightly. His mind supplied that she had been doing that ever since she got there, but he couldn’t actually remember feeling it. It made him safe, and calm, and he clung to her like an octopus. Beyond his scope of attention, he heard Roger discussing something with the doctor, but he didn’t register what they were saying.

That doctor gave them a referral to another, who sent them to a therapist that spoke Portuguese as a native language. She was nice, with a big smile and bigger earrings.

 _“What can you remember, Ace hun?”_ Her voice was similar to his mother’s.

He looked up at Rouge, nervously, and fidgeted with the hem of his skirt. _“Walking home, Luffy left, I was alone. Shaking. Hard to concentrate. They jumped me. Dragged me off. Touched me. Stuck things… i-in… in my… it was… they…”_ His voice seized and his mother squeezed his hand.

_“They raped you, huny.”_

He nodded, pulling his knees up to his face, and hiding behind them. He never let go of his mother, but wrapped the other arm around his legs, shoulders heaving with constrained sobs.

The first time he was able to say that word out loud, was in the interview with the police. To try and make it a little easier on the traumatized teenager, Smoker, Tashigi, and an officer from the Special Victims Unit came to Revolution rather than the other way around. Ace didn’t know if it was actually any better.

As soon as Luffy caught sight of Smoker, he launched himself at the grizzled cop with a wild yell, “SMOKEY!! LOOKIT!!”

“GODDAMNIT, STRAWHAT, I’M NOT A JUNGLE GYM!” The white-haired man growled back, using the bouncy boy’s momentum to roll him across his chest and off again so that Luffy landed in a pile of limbs at the third cop’s feet.

The tall, blond man peered over his dark sunglasses and a smile curled the corner of his mouth, “You must be the infamous Luffy. You’ve quite a reputation down at the station.”

“Who’re you?” The fifteen-year-old asked, looking at him upside down.

“My name is Lieutenant Rapanui. I’m here to ask your cousin some questions, that alright with you?” He wasn’t exactly sarcastic, but they all knew he was going to ask them no matter what Luffy said.

So, the younger brunet shrugged, hopping back up to his feet so he could see the cop right-ways up. “He’s my brother.”

“Strawhat, stop pestering Rapanui! C’mere and help me find your good-for-nothing father!” Smoker hooked an arm around his neck and dragged him off to locate Dragon.

Tashigi sighed heavily, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “Mr. Portgas, if we could begin?”

“So hard on the boy, Shigi.” Rapanui scolded, taking a seat at the bar next to Ace. He held out his hand, “Hi, I didn’t get the chance to—“

Ace cut him off in Portuguese, scowling, with his knees pulled up on the rung of the barstool.

Rouge answered him, cuffing him.

With a huff, he muttered something else, then spoke in English for the benefit of those who couldn’t understand his first language. “I heard you talking to Luffy. Can we get this over with?”

“Ah. Yes. Right to business, I respect that. I need you to tell me exactly what happened the afternoon you were assaulted, starting immediately after your brother left you.”

Tashigi found a seat at a nearby table, a notebook in her hand. She gave Rapanui a nod, and he pulled a tape recorder from his pocket.

“So, for the record, please state your name, and then everything you can recall in as much detail as you’re comfortable with discussing. Alright?”

Ace nodded taking a deep breath. “Ace D. Gol Portgas. And it was right after Luffy took off for God only knows what…”

He recounted everything. From the way he hadn’t been able to get his body to respond to the way Teach and his gang had appeared out of what seemed like shadows. He told the cops about the altercation earlier in the day, how Catarina and Jesus had implied that they knew what was coming. He explained he’d been trapped in his own body, unable to react, but screaming from how they manhandled him. And he related how it felt to be ripped open, torn from the inside out, even though he’d appeared compliant and there were no signs on his body that he’d been forced into anything.

“…and Teach raped me.” He finished with a hard growl, shaking with fury.

At the end of his story, Rapanui nodded. “We’ll receive the medical reports from the ER and from the psychologists you’ve seen since then. Could you explain any lasting effects this has had on you? For the record.”

Behind him, the teenager heard his mother curse in her native tongue, and she busied herself with something to keep from interrupting. They all knew that if they wanted a snowball’s chance in Hell at catching his rapist, Ace had to endure it.

He gave a violent shudder. “N-nightmares. I c-can’t eat much. Panic attacks. Can’t… be alone. Keep thinking he’s gonna…” He lapsed into his mother tongue, _“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, I feel broken, stop asking me questions! It hurts! Just get out there and punish that evil bastard that did this to me! Isn’t that what your job is?! Why are you in here interrogating me while he walks around free and happy with no trouble?! WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!?”_

“Uhh, I’m sorry, I couldn’t understand that last part.”

Ace pulled a knee up to his chest, and looked away, “Sorry. Can we be done now?”

“Sure, kid. I’ll leave you my card. You think of anything else you wanna tell me, you just give me a call, right?” Rapanui set the business card on the bar next to the sullen teenager. Then he gathered up his tape recorder and waved Smoker back from across the bar.

Then they left.

A sinking feeling in Ace’s gut told him the truth long before they got the official word a month later. The emergency room report detailed signs of mental trauma and acute panic related to a severe narcoleptic episode, minor bruising concurrent with vigorous sexual intercourse, and surface lacerations unconnected to either of the other two issues. But no signs of rape. He’d been meticulously prepared, and the catatonia—which was undocumented in his medical history—had made him willing to have it happen. Smoker tried to assure the whole crew that they were still working on it, but it was particularly damning evidence. Maybe if Ace had proof that he had previously suffered catatonic attacks in which he’d been made to do things without consent they’d have more of a case, but that was impossible to obtain.

It only got worse after they interviewed Teach and his gang. A fancy lawyer, Smoker described him as a shitty cat in a suit, submitted a deposition from each of the other teens involved, spelling out a corroborated story that out of fear of Roger’s reaction, Ace and Marshall had been involved as lovers in secret.

Rouge held onto her boy tightly, because if she didn’t she might give into the urge to tear the policeman’s face off. Instead, she hissed, petting Ace’s hair rhythmically, “You and your people need to leave.”

“My apologies, Mrs. Gol.” Rapanui tried to placate her. “For what it’s worth I do believe you—“

_“BUT THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO FOR MY SQUISHY! FILTHY PIG!”_

“Rouge.” Roger laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder, and gave the trio of cops a hard look. “If something changes, you will tell us?”

“Of course!” The blond was quick to assure, but in the back Smoker had his arms crossed over his chest.

Ace himself was numb. What did that mean!? That they’d just… get off? Scott free? No retribution?! He had to go back to school… with… Them… free and… The scream tore itself from his throat before he even consciously decided to make it, and he lunged at the trap of his mother’s arms, the world closed in around his ears in a rushing, thudding, roar.

All their hard work, everything he put himself through, all of it was coming to nothing! Doctors, and psychiatrists, and therapy, and sleep studies, and test after test after test. AND FOR WHAT?! NOTHING! He screamed and screamed. His throat raw, his fingers curled into claws at everyone who tried to touch him once he got free. He ran, tore through the bar like Hell itself was on his heels, up the steps and into his room as though that would make it safe. When it didn’t he ripped the clothes from his closet, throwing the often-delicate fabrics behind him to find a hiding place that made it better. He couldn’t stop! He wasn’t safe! Teach was out there! He could get him again! He’d be torn open and there was nothing he could do to stop it!! He had to hide, had to flee, had to run, had to… had to… had to…

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” He cried, body violently ill with tears.

It took Luffy nearly six months to get the older brunet to even leave the apartment, let alone actually go anywhere outside of the bar.

So, it came to pass, just before his eighteenth birthday, when some semblance of normal had re-established itself in his life, that his younger brother was able to not only drag him out of the house, but out into the world beyond and up to the little row of shops that separated Kokoyashi from Foosha, the next district over.

 _“Why are we here, Luffy?”_ Ace had his arms crossed over his chest, shoulders hunched, and his clothing hung off of his far-too-skinny frame.

The other bounced up to a window and pressed his hands and face against it, “Just cuz.”

_“Cuz why?”_

“Cuz… I won’t tell you if you don’t speak English.”

Ace glared, petulant and angry. _“No. Either tell me or I’m going home.”_

“By yourself?”

_“That’s not fair!”_

Luffy turned to look at him, a certain smugness behind his easy grin, “It works though. You won’t go home without me, and I’m not going home until we’re done here.”

The older rolled his eyes and stormed down the block a little ways. He couldn’t bring himself to cross the alley without his brother—there was too much of a chance of something being in the shadows—but he could lean against the side of the store and refuse to do anything else until Luffy was finished with whatever it was he had planned to do. He watched for a while, then grew bored and started looking around at the other people. There weren’t many, thank God, but the place wasn’t deserted, which was actually worse than crowded if he was honest with himself.

Most of the stores on the street were mom-and-pop places. A coffee shop on the corner; two bookstores—one new, one used; a clothing boutique that actually looked like it might have something worth checking out, but it was on the other side of the alley; somebody’s dance studio; a little park with something that was _technically_ art, though Ace was fairly sure he’d sculpted better things in his mashed potatoes when he was five; the candy shop Luffy was currently drooling over; and the one against which he was leaning.

It was a strange sort of store. The front window had been bayed out as though it was the front of someone’s house instead of a commercial business. There was a homey theme to the design, curtains hung in the window, a little awning over the door, and a welcome mat that had ‘Blessed be’ in elegant cursive writing. The door itself was even more suited to the front door of a fancy house than a shop.

Ace could never explain it, either at the time or later, but he pushed off from the wall and entered the place.

Immediately he was assaulted with the scents of incense, hot tea, and wax. Gentle Eastern music poured over his ears like the tinkle of water over stones. The wind chime above the door meshed seamlessly into the soundtrack. And the sights!

The floor was carpeted entirely with area rugs made of woven patterns, clearly handmade. There were large, plush chairs clustered in a circle in the bay window. A fireplace across from them crackled enticingly, the flames drawing his eyes like the caress of an old friend. There were books everywhere, on every surface, and littered on the shelves that lined the rest of the walls. Symbols from all over the world were engraved, printed, woven into, or painted on everything! The walls, the books, the counters, the rugs, hanging tapestries, and mirrors, and beyond even those. Sticks carved with runes leaned against a corner. A barrel of brooms sat in another. And on a low, free-standing counter unit a kettle bubbled merrily atop an electric burner next to an assortment of cups and a rack of various types of tea.

But what really caught his attention—what drew him across the threshold like it had a command of his body that he didn’t understand—were the stones!

The glass case that served as the counter for the cash register held all manner of gems and rocks, all polished to a high shine designed to maximize the colors. Baskets of stones sat on top, small and mixed together like natural confetti, all about the size of a marble or a little bigger. A rack of crystals on chains hung to the side.

And in the very center, as long as his hand and half as wide, was the crown jewel.

It was deep purple, fading to almost white at the flat end, and nearly clear at the point. It was resting in a stand that held it propped up like a queen on a golden throne. And before he even knew what he was doing, Ace was picking it up. It _hummed_ in his hand, sending a vibration he could actually _feel_ up his arm to some internal spot near his heart that he knew without a doubt wasn’t anyplace physical. Logic said it was ridiculous. Logic could go fuck itself. The seventeen-year-old needed to know this stone. He needed to know it personally, with an ache he hadn’t realized he felt until it was gone—the moment he picked it up.

“It’s called an amethyst.”

Ace jumped, spinning around to face the—much taller—woman. “I-I-I’m sorry! I was just looking! I wasn’t going to steal it or anything!”

Her pencil thin, ebony eyebrows lifted. “Of that I’m certain. But you were drawn in here today, and I would be willing to place the blame on that stone.”

It was then that the teenager realized he was still clutching it. Fumbling a little with the stand, he hurried to put it back where he found it, repeating his apologies.

“Hm.” She positively flowed over the floor, coming up behind him to pick up the purple crystal.

It didn’t look right in her pale hand. Her nails were too dark, too sharp. Ace felt a shiver crawl up his spine and his nose wrinkled without his control. Her dark eyes met his and a secretive smile graced her lips. She seemed to know what he was thinking.

The bangles on her thin wrist clattered and the sleeve of her long, deep blue, dress slid back as she offered the stone back to the boy. “It isn’t often my stones Call so strongly. It would be remiss of me to deny it when it has found a soul in need.”

“Him.”

“What?” It wasn’t exactly shock on her face when he took it, but she was stunned.

“The stone. The…”

“Amethyst.”

“The amethyst. He’s a him.” He didn’t even know why he was so insistent. He just knew.

Again her eyebrows climbed to her hairline. “My, my. You have quite the Gift, young healer. To Speak to stones without training is a talent that I have never seen in nearly twenty years of practicing my Craft.” She stepped back slightly to offer her hand, palm up. “I am Madam Shyarly, and if you’re willing, I would be honored to show you the Path of Crystallomancy.”

“Uhh…” The boy blinked at her hand, then up to her face, and frowned a little when he realized her hair covered one eye. “Ace. And I guess…?”

“Crystallomancy. The art of reading the future through stones and crystals. I don’t know that your Gift will carry over in that direction, but at the very least, it will teach you the properties of each stone. I See great things in your future, Ace.” She smiled, though it felt a little like meeting a shark face-to-face. “There are no coincidences, you were meant to come to my shop today.”

At that moment the door burst open in a clatter of wind chimes and chaos.

“Ah! You! Not again, Rubberboy! You nearly destroyed my shop yesterday, and I’m not entirely convinced you won’t succeed someday! Now shoo!” Shyarly shook her hands at him, but Luffy only laughed, bouncing up to Ace.

He flung an arm around his brother’s shoulders, “Ready to go?”

Ace frowned, looking at the crystal, then at Luffy. “You’re up to something, Lu.”

“Shishishi!”

The older brunet stepped up to the counter to put the amethyst back again, sure he couldn’t afford it no matter how much he wanted to take it home with him. But the shopkeeper held up her hand, stopping him.

“Consider it an investment in your studies. Even if you don’t take up with me as your teacher, you will find yourself walking the Path, young Healer. I am pleased to see him go to one such as you.” She took the stand away with a flick of her wrist, and a basket of mixed crystals appeared as though the amethyst had never been there in the first place.

Ace frowned again, “I don’t like charity.”

“C’mon! She said she’s giving it to you, let’s go!” Luffy tugged on his arm.

“Luffy!”

But he couldn’t stop the younger teenager from pulling him out of the store, and he was too busy trying to keep his balance after stumbling over the entryway out onto the sidewalk. He didn’t notice the wink Luffy gave Shyarly, or the answering smile she returned.

It took until they’d gotten all the way back to Revolution and upstairs into their living room before Ace realized he’d had the entire conversation, with a stranger, in English! He turned on Luffy.

“You planned that!” Though his growl wasn’t nearly so intimidating.

Luffy just shrugged and bounced down the hall to grab his ‘going out’ hoodie—the sleeveless red one with the front zipper. When he came back, Ace was watching him with a strange expression.

“What?”

“You’re going out.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have to?”

“Mmm…” He screwed mouth up, looking off to the side. Ace got up off the couch, and Luffy caught his arm on his way past, “I’ll be back soon.”

The expression on his brother’s face made it clear the freckled other didn’t believe him. So he slid his hand up under Ace’s sleeve, gripping a bicep that was far too skinny for his liking, and pressed his luck.

He hadn’t kissed his brother since That Night, not wanting to trigger a panic attack or something, but it had been hard. He’d gotten used to capturing the older’s mouth any time he started talking about things that he shouldn’t be worried about—like his weight, Luffy’s disease, what strangers thought of his clothes, the fact that Sabo wasn’t there… But for months now, he hadn’t been able to, held back by his own respect for Ace’s boundaries. Though he couldn’t have articulated all of that exactly. All Luffy really could say about it was that it hadn’t felt right.

Tonight it did.

Tonight, his other hand came up to pull Ace’s face closer, cupping his jaw and running his thumb over the ridge of cheekbone so prominent below Ace’s eye. Tonight he slipped his lips over Ace’s, gentle and pliant—ready to back away at the slightest bit of resistance. But there wasn’t any. He closed his eyes and lifted Ace’s free hand to the back of his neck, tracing over the shoulder and down his back to hold him close. He felt the other melt into him, one hand still clutching the hard, purple, stone, and he gathered him up, drank him down with a swipe of long tongue through a hot mouth. He swallowed the sound he heard Ace make, and leaned in for more of them—

Only to have the other pull away.

“Lu… W-we shouldn’t! It’s…” Ace wasn’t able to come up with an end to that sentence, not once he met his brother’s eyes. His mouth snapped shut, color high on his dotted cheeks from the kiss, and he affected a huff, “Come back before dawn.”

Luffy grinned, pulling his straw hat onto his head, “Yosh!”

Then he was gone, leaving a still very flustered Ace standing in the middle of their living room _immensely_ grateful for the fluffy layers of his skirt!

The narcoleptic’s willpower held out for a few weeks. But it was next to impossible! That kiss! It hadn’t been like any other they had shared before. All of the others, though surprising and flustering, were tame, chaste. If they’d been planted any other place, Ace wouldn’t have even thought twice about them. The only thing that stuck out was the fact that Luffy had been kissing him on the mouth, which social convention said even not-brothers weren’t supposed to do!

But that one…

After that first trip (of many) to Madam Shyarly’s mystic shop, that one had been anything _but_ chaste! Ace could still recall the burn of want that coiled through his body when Luffy’s mouth had covered his own. Being a teenager, it was hot and high, and often demanded that he satisfy it before it would go away—only to be stoked again the next time he thought about it.

Even still, it was almost a month before Ace started to give in. The first time was in the shower. He needed to finish and didn’t have the time to wait for it to go away on its own as he had so many times before. So, he indulged. He jacked off to the memory of Luffy’s kiss, and felt thoroughly disgusting afterwards. He swore he’d never do it again! Until he woke from a dream so vivid he couldn’t honestly tell that Luffy hadn’t been sucking him down. He only realized it hadn’t been real when he reached down to find himself mostly dry, but for a sticky hint of precome.

After that there was no getting away from it.

He tried to keep it to only nights when Luffy was out, but for some reason that wasn’t happening as often anymore. As happy as Ace was that his younger brother wasn’t deliberately looking for trouble, it certainly put a damper on his newfound method of falling back to sleep in the middle of the night. He found himself getting pent up sometimes, restraining himself for fear of Luffy catching him.

So it came one night, after nearly a week of the other boy staying in at night, Ace grew careless. Oh it started out like any other night, dinner and homework. Ace spent several hours drawing while Luffy grew more and more anxious, not nervous exactly, but he nearly vibrated with anticipation right up until eleven pm.

He bolted out of his chair without bothering to save his game or shut down the system.

“Oi! Lu!”

“Ah, I’ll get it later, I gotta go!”

“What do you mean go!?” Ace frowned, setting his sketchbook aside to take care of the console before Dadan found out.

“You know,” Luffy stuck his head and shoulders out of the bathroom, shirtless, “go. Out.”

“So late?! Why?”

“Mmmmmmm… can’t tell you.”

At that the older frowned, coming up to the bathroom door. It was pulled around but there was a two-inch crack between the door itself and the frame, just enough to see the reflection from the mirror.

“And why not!”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

Ace could see the expression on his face as Luffy brought his hands to his jeans.

“Because I can’t.”

“Luffy, that is not an answer!” The sharpness of his tone was worry, or at least that was what he told himself as he tried to tear his eyes away from the way his brother’s chest and stomach flexed when he dropped his pants.

The younger groaned, digging his hands into his hair like he was trying to hold something back through physical pressure on his head. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anybody until after it was over! It’s important!!”

Ace couldn’t speak. He’d given up trying to form coherent thoughts when the reflection turned to give him a full frontal assessment of the way his younger brother’s body had filled out thanks to the street fighting he’d been doing. No longer was he staring at a gangly teenager. No, Luffy was a young man, with tight, flexible muscles, just barely hidden under his skin until he moved. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, slender hips, strong thighs, and between them—Nngh! The older bit his lip, clamping down on the sound he wanted to make.

He didn’t realize anything had changed, or that the mirror worked in two directions right then. All he saw was Luffy’s sun-kissed skin as the younger man climbed into the shower. Words like ‘mocha’ and ‘coffee’ and ‘cocoa’ popped into his mind alongside the nearly overpowering urge to taste, to find out if the shift of muscle was as delicious as it looked.

Instead, he bolted to his room, slamming the door shut and leaning on it, panting hard. He bit down on the meat of his palm and whimpered, sliding to the floor in a physical acceptance of defeat. He was done. It was over and he knew it. Hopelessly, incestuously, in love with the boy—no, man—he’d grown up with as a brother. And sure, Luffy had kissed him so many times, but that didn’t mean he reciprocated those feelings!

How could he!?

 _Why_ would he!?

Ace was a mess! Narcoleptic, traumatized, borderline anorexic, nearly a shut-in but for weekly trips out to see Madam Shyarly. The only real interests he had were drawing and collecting crystals! He didn’t even know how he was going to support himself! Because college was absolutely out of the question!

The older brunet let a small whine escape his throat, the want burning hot between his legs, and the knowledge that he’d never be anything Luffy deserved weighing heavy in his chest.

At some point, Luffy left, and Ace made it to his bed. He was lucky enough that most of his nighttime pills were on the desk next to where he slept. So he didn’t have to leave the room for anything, and he was grateful for the few hours of blessed numbness he had before the dreams invaded his consciousness.

The image of Luffy, full naked as he had been in the bathroom, wove itself into his dreams, placing phantom touches, and imaginary kisses all over his skin. In his sleep, his body arched into them, needy and wanting. He could trust Luffy. Luffy would treat him right. Luffy would make the ache stop in the right ways. Luffy would erase the feeling of Others from his skin. Luffy would… Luffy…

“Luuuu…” He moaned, his hand working his shaft, still half-asleep.

Little did the sleeping older teen know he was being watched.

The subject of his dreams sat in his window, a little scraped up, but none the worse for wear. His shirt had taken most of the damage, and in his back pocket he had a paper he’d been too excited to wait until morning to show Ace. But that was before he’d climbed up the fire escape and discovered his brother jacking off and moaning his name.

He tilted his head, a thoughtful expression on his face. He’d thought Ace hadn’t gotten the message last time, but apparently he’d been wrong. What had Zoro said…? Something about not hesitating? Well, that was one thing Luffy never did. As soon as he had enough information to give him a feeling about what to do next, he did it.

And this was no different.

Sliding off the windowsill, the red jumper and cut-off jeans fell to the floor. He left his boxers on because they were still clean, and he didn’t know that he wanted to be all the way naked this time. His opinion about sex was like that; variable and infrequent. Not letting stray thoughts distract him, the young man made his way to the edge of his brother’s bed just as the older brunet gripped his cock and whimpered.

Luffy said nothing. He watched Ace’s face as he wrapped his own hand around the one already working and matched the rhythm. Their eyes met, and recognition lit up in Ace’s. He tried to say something, but Luffy cut him off.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He did, and the air hung tight between them for several seconds before Ace choked out, “You’re real?”

“Yeah.”

“Then no.”

“No?” Luffy tilted his head and blinked, starting to pull back.

“No! I mean don’t stop!”

“Okay.”

“Nngh!!” Ace’s head fell back onto the pillows, his hands clutching the sheets. “Ahhh!! LuuuUUffy!!”

The younger’s strokes were fast and tight for a little while, his body shifted onto the bed to be in line with his brother’s from shoulder to hip. He paused to the sound of Ace’s whine and held his palm up to the other’s mouth.

“Spit.” He ordered, and Ace found himself strangely compelled to do it.

Whatever the reason, he was glad of it when Luffy put his hand back on his dick! The lubrication was like someone had turned the heat up past boiling, and his hips snapped up to follow the mind-numbing sensations pooling in his groin.

“L-Luffy I’m gonna… LuUUffy… I’m… I need…” He cried, lost in the feeling and unconscious knowledge of someone else’s hand on his dick.

He felt lips near his ear, tugging on the piercings, and his brother’s voice was dark with dominance, “Come.”

And he did!

As if on command the pleasure coiling around his body sprang free, like fire in his veins. His muscles jumped and he bucked _hard_ into Luffy’s hand, his spunk pulsing up over the other’s fingers and onto his belly. Whining high, with his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his eyes closed, Ace felt a strange weightlessness hit him in the aftermath. He was aware of Luffy coaxing him down, but he didn’t actively feel it. It was like he was disconnected from himself and compliant, but not in a catatonic fashion. This was more conscious than that, for all that he hadn’t decided to let Luffy take over that far.

It was hours later, the sun coming in through the open window, and the rumble of a soft snore in his ear, that told Ace he’d fallen asleep after climaxing. Confusion, as often happened when he didn’t _plan_ on passing out, fogged his mind. He remembered dreaming about Luffy, and he thought he might have remembered Luffy jacking him off, but in that middle of the night mindset, he couldn’t be entirely certain of what had been real versus what had been lingering dreams.

A snort and the shift of his pillow snapped the memory into better focus, and flame lit up his face as he turned to look at the younger man sprawled haphazardly across the edge of his bed. Luffy’s mouth hung open. He licked his lips, then wiped his mouth in his sleep. He wore only boxer shorts, and had scuffs and bruises on both hands, his knees, the side of one cheek, his left shoulder, and the tops of both feet. Nothing was actively bleeding, but it was clear he’d been in a fight.

Ace sat straight upright, glaring. “LUFFY!”

“Huh-what-who?! Meat!” The other snorted, nearly falling out of the bed. Then he blinked, reality asserting itself, and he reached up to grab his brother’s neck so he could kiss him. He purred, “Ace.”

For a moment or two, the older melted, but his wits came back and he pulled away sharply, “Luffy, what did you do?!”

Luffy blinked, a frown pinching his brows. “I helped.”

“Helped who? Why?”

“You don’t remember?”

The worry, which had no place being on his brother’s face, clarified things, “No, no, I mean you’re all beat up! You were fighting again!”

“OH! Yeah!” The younger brunet grinned and bounced out of bed to grab something from his pants pocket. “Here, look! I’m allowed to now!”

“What do you mean you’re allowed to, gimme that!” Ace practically tore the paper—

“Hey! Watch it!”

—in his haste to read it. His eyes scanned the words over and over, trying to make sense of it as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was reading. Then he looked up at the still grinning younger man, “You… got a sponsor? You’re… this is professional?! They’re gonna pay you to fight?! Like… in a ring, on TV, for real!?”

“YEAH! Innit great?!” Luffy bounced back onto the bed, landing on his knees and knuckles, his glee so bright that it made Ace’s cheeks ache to look at. “Only rule is I can’t fight outside the ring no more. It’s why I’ve been home so much. Last night was the qualifying thing-a-majingy that meant cuz I won Tenryuubito would pay for me to keep fighting. They’re gonna set me up with gear and a place to practice, and they even offered to let Shanks be my manager!”

“That old drunk?” Ace wrinkled his nose.

“HEY! Shanks is cool!”

“He’s a drunk and a pervert!”

Luffy stuck his tongue out childishly, “He also fought for ‘em when he was my age, so he’s my manager, and you can’t say anything about it!”

“Do Dadan and Gramps know about this?” Ace didn’t dignify the tongue with a response, though that was more due to his brother’s position over his lap than anything else.

“Course they do! They had to sign off on it, Pai too!”

“Hmph. I guess if they’re okay with it, I’m okay with it.”

“YOSH!”

Luffy launched himself around Ace’s neck, just hugging at first, but a couple of minutes later he was mouthing at the tendons of the older teen’s neck. Ace found his hands on Luffy’s hips and he fell into it until his mind caught up with what he was feeling again.

“Lu-Lu—“ He pushed with his palms.

“Mm?” The younger pulled back, confused.

“We can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“You’re my brother.”

“So?”

“It isn’t supposed to happen between brothers.”

Luffy’s mouth scrunched up. “That’s stupid.”

The younger teen never had been one to go by either social convention, or against his instincts. Sitting back on his heels, and Ace’s shins, he crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. He caught and held Ace’s eyes, some determination in his own that captured the other’s entire focus until the older swallowed compulsively from the mounting tension.

“You want it right?” Luffy didn’t wait for an answer. “I want to give it to you. Who cares what other people think? Other people aren’t you and me. Not even Gramps or Dadan. This is between you and me. Nobody else. It’s not dangerous because I’m know what I’m doing and how to keep you safe from me. Do you want it or not?”

Ace melted at the matter of fact way the other mentioned his disease, “I’m always safe with you, Lu. I trust you.”

“Do you want it?”

He hesitated, buying time, “Where’d you even learn all this anyway?!”

“From Zoro.” Luffy growled as though it was both obvious and irritating that Ace was trying to change the subject, “Now do you want it?”

There was an insistence in his tone, but also an obvious choice. If Ace said no now, Luffy would back off and it would never be brought up again. But if Ace said yes…

He didn’t know who he thought he was fooling. “Yes.”

~*~

The day of Ace’s eighteenth birthday dawned like any other day. For the first time since he’d been diagnosed with narcolepsy he was sleeping through the night. He could wake feeling rested and energized, and though he couldn’t stop his medications exactly, he could back off the doses of most of them. Particularly the ones designed to handle his nightmares, as with Luffy in his bed with him every night, he had far fewer than he’d ever had.

The effect that had on the rest of his troubles was remarkable. He was eating regularly; the feeling of needing to starve himself disappeared almost overnight. He still had to be reminded not to, but the drive to do so was gone.

In turn it made him more alert and focused. His drawings were bigger and more complex than ever. He actually started playing with paint! With the increased interest in his passion came a wanderlust that had him hauling Luffy all over the city to art museums and galleries and even down to Four Blues University’s main campus to check out the graphic design and fine arts program.

He wasn’t completely better. Nothing could remove the trauma Teach and his cronies had inflicted on him. There was no magical cure for his narcolepsy. And ten years of battling insomnia and anorexia left him horribly disorganized when it came to regulating his body’s needs. But things were looking up.

If Ace had to describe it, he almost felt like the sun had started to come back into his life after being gone for too long.

And Luffy was even better! He was training every day with Shanks and a couple of older guys that the redhead knew from his own days as a Mixed Martial Artist. Rayleigh Silvers had been Shanks’ manager and primary trainer back in the day, and the other man, a half-Maori giant named Jinbe Toarangatira, came from the South Pacific and had been one of Shanks’ favorite opponents. Together the three of them were giving Luffy the discipline and form he needed to go along with his natural talent.

It made for a welcome routine in their lives.

Ace was just finishing breakfast and Luffy was playing a final round of some adventure game when it happened; the knock that disrupted everything. It came from the private door that led out the back of the building into the lot Dadan had fenced off for Luffy’s training. It was impossible for someone to have gotten in there. The fence was over ten feet high!

That should have been their first warning sign.

The brothers met eyes, frozen in place, when the knock came again. Harder that time. Like the person, who shouldn’t be there, was nervous or impatient for them to answer.

With trepidation both D boys stopped what they were doing and quietly made their way down the steps to peer through the peephole. Unfortunately, being that the peephole was designed only for one person at a time, neither could see much of anything beyond the blackness of the hole itself. This initiated a small shoving match that was only interrupted by a third round of knocking.

The insistence was more desperate, more like pounding than knocking really, and a voice called through the door, “Ace?! Luffy!? Please???”

The younger jumped to the knob first, tearing at the locks, and ripping the door nearly off of its hinges. The older was right behind him though, so as soon as the entrance was open they both crashed into the person-who-shouldn’t-be-there, and all three of them tumbled out into the lot—the person on the bottom, Luffy next, and Ace on top.

All three blinked. Brown met blue, and as one, the two brunets yelled, “SABO!”

**Author's Note:**

> [I Think You Look Pretty by the amazing Gecko!!](http://www.imgrum.net/media/1262802510507232677_3188549178)


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